


Stories of Winter

by Slothquisitor



Series: Reparation [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Original Character Death(s), there will be some Delrin Barris and Rosalie stuff too
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-27
Updated: 2017-03-11
Packaged: 2018-08-18 06:04:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8151656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slothquisitor/pseuds/Slothquisitor
Summary: A collection of stories that take place in the first winter at the estate from Reparation. Stories will be from several perspectives including Delrin Barris and the Rutherford siblings as well as Mara and Cullen's.





	1. Sentinels

Ser Maxwell’s health deteriorated quickly. The snow fell more often and the days were a cloudy gray for too many in a row. Max’s skin turned pale and gaunt and he barely had the energy to leave his bed. They turned his bed around and set it right up against the window so he could see out of it. He liked to watch the snowfall, he said he liked watching the individual flakes fall and how over time something so small could build up to something as beautiful as the several feet of snow that accumulated. 

Mara continued to encourage him to write in his notebook, everything he remembered when he remembered it. She had found that once his lyrium intake was made consistent that his mood swings and forgetfulness were much less volatile. 

Giving him the lyrium hadn’t been easy, but Cullen hadn’t fought her when she said that Max was too weak to go off of it. Cullen’s eyes had been inexplicably sad, and she’d had so many arguments ready. She’d been prepared to tell him what she felt when she buried her magic deep into Max’s veins, that the blue was tied so closely that it was hard to tell where the lyrium stopped and Max began. But Cullen hadn’t argued. He’d pressed a soft kiss to her forehead and told her to do what she needed to do. 

She’d set a partition up around Max, one that she only closed when she administered the lyrium. She carried it carefully from the hiding place under the floorboard in her room, so careful that it was never seen, that she never touched the liquid herself as she administered it. She washed her hands after she put it back anyways, as if the templars might be able to sense it had been in her hands. Cullen and Barris were the only ones who knew, but she guessed that the rest of them had figured it out. 

Cullen had begun arriving each day with lunch for Max and himself, sitting down near Max’s bedside and spending that time with him. What they spoke of depended heavily on who Max was that day. If he was the brand new recruit to the circle they spoke as much as they could about Max’s family who they’d discovered was long dead from the Blight. If he was the grizzled warrior who had seen too much, been thrown out by the Chantry when his usefulness had run its course they spoke of what he’d hope could be done to change the Order. Cullen came every day, dealt with whoever Max was without any sort of complaint. 

It was clear to him too though, that Max was not long for this world. He barely ate, even at Cullen’s urging and his mind had deteriorated so much that he was hardly himself for more than a few minutes at a time. Sometimes he wouldn’t speak or even acknowledge anyone’s presence, he just stared out the window at the falling snow in silence. 

The weather kept everyone cooped up inside, which made it difficult to keep spirits up. But Barris tried, organizing game tournaments in the dining room and teaching the templars to ski with Cullen. Max weighed on everyone regardless. 

Tessa, one of the night healers, arrived a little late due to the snow to relieve Mara. She’d sit up in the night with Max if he needed anything, catching sleep herself when he didn’t. Mara slept easier from her room knowing someone was there with him, so he wasn’t entirely alone. 

Since arriving back from Denerim she and Cullen had spent most nights together, trading off in each other’s rooms. Cullen and Barris switched off nights for dealing with nightmares if they arose, and when it wasn’t Cullen’s turn they stayed downstairs in her room. It was larger, further from others, it afforded them a bit more privacy. 

They’d both cleared out a drawer for one another, a place to keep sleep clothes and a spare set of clothes or two to change into in the mornings. They’d done their best to keep things as professional as possible, but when she ran into Hendrick or Trina in the hallway in the early hours of the morning leaving Cullen’s room, she was sure that their attempts to keep things quiet were failing completely. 

She walked quietly up the stairs after finding Cullen’s office already empty, candles blown out. They’d both been working hard since their return. Barris and Cullen’s siblings had done a wonderful job, but there was always so much to do, it was a wonder more hadn’t piled up while they were away. 

Mara silently opened Cullen’s door and shut it behind her. A single candle sputtered and burned on the dresser, bathing the room in dull orange light. Cullen was on his knees at the edge of the bed, head buried in his hands. 

It took her a moment to realize that he was praying, his mouth moving soundlessly in petition to his Maker. She’d never see him pray before, she stood at the door, transfixed and awkward, not wanting to break the sacred silence within his room. She thought about leaving him be, but he noticed her presence. 

“Mara,” he rose from his knees, expression unreadable. 

She gripped her arm with one hand across her torso, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“You didn’t,” he said, eyes soft. It seemed as if he was about to reach out for her and then stopped himself. 

“Are you okay?” she asked, taking a cautious step forward. 

“I’m better now,” he admitted, closing the scant space between them. She wrapped her arms around him before she could watch him struggle to reach for her. She thought they were past the feelings of unworthiness for each other, but realized that perhaps he’d always be a little unsure on nights like this. That when someone’s life hung in the balance at the estate Cullen would always internalize it, would always feel responsible no matter what. 

She wasn’t sure what sort of comfort he found in kneeling in supplication to his Maker. If He existed she would direct her rage at him for staying silent through so much suffering. How many prayed for His guidance, His mercy, how many had He answered? He certainly hadn’t answered Cullen as he was tortured in Kinloch, or when Kirkwall dissolved into chaos. She never voiced her anger aloud, knew that Cullen held his faith tightly and she respected that, even if she didn’t understand it. Though she vowed that whenever her time came to pass through the Veil and into the Fade if the Maker was there to be found, he would answer to her.

“Come to bed, my love,” he whispered into her hair. 

She pressed a kiss to his chin and went to change. 

***

Cullen had known this was a possibility. That someone would arrive at the estate too far gone for them to truly do much more than make them comfortable. He hadn’t considered it until Mara had brought it up in the beginning, but ever since she had he had known she was right, that this could happen. 

It was so much harder than he thought it would be. He hadn’t considered what it would be like to watch Max slowly slip away. It had been different with Gregory, he’d been there, alive and then suddenly he wasn’t. Pieces of Max seemed to be falling away, never to be recovered. He forgot how to do basic things like feed himself, and use the bathroom. It would have been easier, Cullen thought if Max would just stay distant and cloudy, but there were some moments when he was suddenly completely himself again, and cripplingly aware of how his mind was failing him. Those moments made it all the more difficult, because Cullen knew he was in there, but couldn’t reach through the fog of lyrium in order to reach him. 

Mara seemed to bearing it better, but sometimes when she was alone with him in the blue morning before anyone else was awake, she’d lay awake, eyes sad. He was sure he knew why. 

The other day he and Barris had tried to raise spirits with the other templars by taking them outside and giving them some time to ski. Most of them had never tried it, and for a while it helped. Cullen wondered, once Max was gone and this group of templars too, if he, Mara, and Barris would be the only ones to carry the memories of those who didn’t leave. 

Mia came one afternoon while Cullen sat with Max who stared unseeingly out the window. Cullen had tried to coax him to eat, but he’d refused. So he sat reading a book to him, in some desperate effort to reach the man trapped inside the lyrium addled brain. 

Mara saw Mia arrive, came to take his place and continue reading so he could meet with his sister. He and Mia hadn’t had much of a chance to talk since they’d returned. Cullen had been immediately busy with the estate, and Mia needed to get back to her home which she’d surely left somewhat neglected. 

“How are the two of you holding up?” Mia asked as they left the infirmary, the sound of Mara’s voice carrying through into the hallway. 

He glanced backwards as they walked, “I don’t know, Mia.”

She nodded, “That’s a pretty honest answer.”

She was referring to how it always seemed so difficult to tell her things, they’d been working hard to change that. They met up each week for a chess match, a time to talk, to work over and around and hopefully through the years they’d spent apart. The chessboard was already set up in his office, something he’d done before going to try and get Max to eat lunch. 

“How have you been?” Cullen asked, changing the subject. 

She smiled, a little tired, “Just slowly getting back into the swing of things back at the house. I didn’t think I’d miss being here so much, but it was a nice change of pace.”

He sat on the couch, moving the chessboard between them, “Enough of a change of pace you might be willing to help out during Cloudreach?” 

“Depends on why.”

“For a wedding,” Cullen responded, moving his pawn. 

Mia gasped, “Are you serious?”

He realized she’d misunderstood him, “Lorraine’s, in Ostwick.”

Mia’s face fell, “Oh, I didn’t know you were going.”

Cullen shrugged, “Neither did I. To be honest I’m still not sure about it, but Cassandra, Sera and Dagna will be incredibly upset if I don’t. It will be nice to see everyone again.”

“Mara going too?” she asked, sliding a pawn across the board. 

“Of course, that’s why we’d need you,” Cullen explained, “We think we can ensure that it’s mostly between groups, and Barris has already agreed to help as well. It shouldn’t be as much work as it was even if we will be gone longer.”

Mia smiled, “Of course we will help.”

Cullen found himself relieved, “Thank you.”

“So leaving again then?” Mia asked. 

“Less dangerously this time, I hope,” Cullen nodded. 

“I’m sorry for not trusting more,” Mia said quietly, “that you’d come back I mean. Matthew told me about your plans and I…”

Cullen interrupted, “Not here.” He worried Mara might overhear, that what he was working so hard to keep under wraps might be spoiled before he ever had a chance to work on it. 

Mia glanced out into the hallway, “Sorry!”

“It’s fine, and I get it. I’ve got a lot to make up for,” Cullen said as he moved his knight. 

Mia sighed, “I just really want to be past this whole feeling that I need to keep punishing you for things you can’t change.”

He nodded, choosing his words carefully, “I know we promised to move forward, but sometimes it feels like all we do is skirt around the past.”

“We should change that,” Mia agreed. 

So they did. That afternoon they talked about the hard things Kinloch, Honnleath, Kirkwall. They often didn’t look at each other as they spoke, the chessboard giving them something to do and look at, instead of each other. It was easier that way, they could speak and share and worry less about hurting the other. 

“Mara knows?” Mia asked, finally. 

He nodded, “She got it a little more piecemeal, but yes.”

“I had only heard rumors, put them together in my head and tried to understand, imagine...I…” she stopped herself from apologizing, it’d been over ten years and he’d never wanted her pity. 

“I can’t imagine,” Mia finally settled on what to say, “but I think I understand more now.”

He chanced a glance up to his sister, “I wish it was easier to talk about.”

“I wish I’d had the means to leave Bran and Rosie and go get your sorry ass from Kirkwall,” she replied. 

He couldn’t help but chuckle, “And go against the Chantry?”

She was very serious, “I’d go up against the Maker himself if it came down to it for my family.”

“I know,” he replied, her golden eyes mirrored the determination he had sometimes seen in his own. 

Mia spoke carefully, “I know you’re disheartened about Max, but imagine if this place didn’t exist. Where would he be?”

Cullen found he didn’t have an answer.

***

Each day became more and more difficult as Max slipped further away from them. Everyone in the house avoided the infirmary, except her, Cullen, and Barris. Max had been difficult with her at first, worried that a templar wasn’t always watching her. But the longer he stayed the less he seemed to mind. She wondered if he was truly trusting her, or if he was holding onto her memory because she brought him lyrium. She suspected the latter. 

It wore on Cullen the most, even his shoulders seemed heavy from carrying the guilt. She tried, in those few moments they had to themselves in the mornings and before they fell asleep at night, to assure him he had no reason to feel guilt. That this wasn’t his fault, if anything the clinic’s existence was helping more than anyone ever could at this point. He ran his long fingers through her hair, listening silently, and when she’d said her peace he kissed her gently on the forehead and told her he’d try. 

Perhaps he was trying, working to not feel so responsible. Perhaps it was just too hard to watch Max deteriorate every day not to feel that it he was in some way responsible. She wished there was more she could do to fix it, to heal him. But there wasn’t. 

Barris walked into the infirmary, greeting Max as he walked in. Max didn’t acknowledge him, empty eyes simply staring out the window. 

“I’ve got notes from our session this morning,” Barris smiled, handing her a leather bound book. While Mara and Cullen had been away in Denerim, Barris had begun taking notes of the group discussions at the estate. It was a practice that had continued once Mara and Cullen had returned, most of the time one of them was missing from the session and it was an easy way to keep up to date. 

“How was it today?” Mara asked. 

Barris shrugged, “Much of the same honestly. I think they all feel very acutely what’s happening to Max, as if they’re staring into their own futures. Or what they could be if they’re unsuccessful.”

Mara sighed, “Bit of morbid motivation.”

“Indeed,” Barris agreed, “but we work with what we have.”

“We most certainly do,” Mara nodded. 

Barris gave her a small smile, “I’m going to go meet Rosie for lunch.”

“Tell her hello for me,” she replied. 

“You better find some time for her, and soon,” Barris called over his shoulder. 

That was something she’d been meaning to do. Things had just been so busy since they’d come back, with Max and getting things back in order. She’d lost track of how many times she’d promised Rosie that as soon as things slowed down they’d find some time. 

Cullen entered the infirmary, holding a tray of food as he normally did at this time of day. He usually brought her some food and they ate with Max, or tried to convince him to eat. It was a struggle most days. Cullen’s hair had grown out a bit longer than he usually let it, the careful style he put it in each morning working its way out by the afternoon. It curled around his ears, in soft twists. She knew he disliked it, but each morning she marvelled at its natural state, and he rolled his eyes at her. It was an intimacy she treasured. 

Max barely ate a thing, despite how hard they tried. Finally Cullen gave her hand a squeeze and took the tray away. Something told her to stay at his side through the afternoon. She took Max’s brittle hand in hers, his skin felt papery under her touch. He didn’t say anything, but the held her hand so softly she might have missed it if she hadn’t been paying attention. 

Cullen returned, taking up vigil on the other side of Max’s bed. They sat there quietly, the three of them. Mara and Cullen spoke, about springtime, told Max stories. And while the snow fell soft as a whisper outside, Max took his last breaths. It was almost as if Mara could feel it, Max’s presence seeping away from them and into the Fade. 

Cullen seemed to feel it too, looking to her, eyes wide, “Is he?”

Mara flipped Max’s hand over quickly, fingers against his wrist she felt for a pulse, dipped her magic in, to confirm what she already knew. She nodded, tears springing to her eyes. 

Cullen took a shaky breath, clearly trying to keep a hold of his emotions. She rose from her seat, quickly walking to the other side of the bed, while Cullen’s body shook. She enveloped him in her arms, his head resting against her as quiet sobs escaped him. He clung to her, holding her tightly to him. She let her own tears fall then too. They stayed like that for a long while, even once the tears stop falling, holding each other. 

They broke apart briefly as Cullen stood, wiped at the dampness that remained on her cheeks. He pulled her against him, tucking her head protectively under his chin, “I’ll contact the Chantry.”

“We should tell everyone first,” Mara whispered. 

“Together?” he asked. 

She nodded and took Cullen’s hand. He led them both from the room, but the need to stay remained, caught in her stomach. She felt like she shouldn’t leave, like her presence was still required to watch over Max. But there was nothing. 

He was gone. 


	2. Untold Truths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rosie finds out something she didn't know about Barris.

Delrin wouldn’t ever admit it, but he slept much easier when Cullen and Mara returned to the estate. He’d taken the responsibility of running the estate without any sort of question, understood what Mara and Cullen weren’t saying about Denerim meant it was about the red lyrium. The stuff still haunted his dreams, and even knowing that some of it might still be out there made his breathing speed up, his heart clench. 

Rosie had taken to sleeping over while Mara and Cullen were away. He hadn’t minded, he’d never shared a bed with someone before, not like this. It was comforting, knowing there was someone right there with him when he awoke from nightmares. Rosie being the first thing he saw when he awoke was a perk as well. What he wasn’t sure about was what Cullen’s reaction was going to be when he found out. 

The pale morning dawned slowly around him and he cast aside his worries for a while. No matter how tired he was he always seemed to rise with the sun, a habit left over from his time as a templar he supposed. Sometimes he minded, wished he could sleep in past the sunrise for once. On mornings as quiet as that one he never did. 

Rosie slept beside him, a sprawl of limbs across his bed. Despite how cold it was, she’d cast off most of the blankets, her blonde hair was a mess of curls half obscuring her face as she slept. 

Mornings had taken on a quality all their own since Rosie had begun sleeping at the estate. He enjoyed those quiet moments awake beside her. They were a gentle reminder of everything he was fighting for, of everything his life had turned out to be. He’d never envisioned it going this way, but it was better than he could have dreamed. 

He toyed with and end of one of her curls, twisting it in his fingers and pulling it until it twisted back into its natural shape. Most days he felt like he just might combust with happiness. This was definitely one of those days even with everything else. 

Mara and Cullen had gathered everyone in the dining room the day before, he knew what they were there to tell them before they spoke the words. They wouldn’t have ever left Max alone, not unless he was gone. 

Rosie had pressed a kiss to his cheek and then disappeared out into the snowy night to retrieve her other siblings, recognizing Cullen’s need for them even before he did. She returned with red cheeks and snowflakes caught in her hair. He couldn’t explain what it was that had come over him, but suddenly he felt this need to be touched, to feel something real and tangible and not tainted by lyrium. 

He pulled her away from the somber group gathered in the dining room as quickly as  he was able, pulling her upstairs and as soon as the door was shut falling into her arms. He’d kissed her fiercely and she hadn’t asked him questions or pressured him into talking. She’d just been there. And now she lay curled up in his bed, wearing nothing but one of his old tunics. 

She stirred, cuddling closer to him with amber eyes bleary from sleep. Her voice was hoarse when she finally spoke, “You’re always up before me.”

He shrugged and pulled her closer, “Templar.”

She sleepily glared at him, “I grew up on a farm.”

He laughed. Wondered for a moment if everything he felt was acceptable. He’d lost himself in her the night before, and the knowledge that Max was dead somehow didn’t hold as much weight as it would have otherwise. Maker forgive him for it, he found there was little Rosie couldn’t make better. 

Instead of replying he pressed a kiss to her forehead, relishing in her scent. On nights when she went back to Mia’s he would lay in bed, the smell of her still lingering on the pillows. She smelled like clean hay, blue skies and summer flowers. He sunk further down into the bed, pulling the soft blanket over them both. Her legs tangled with his and without a thought about morning breath he kissed her. Her lips were soft and pliant beneath his, moving in patterns more treasured for how familiar they had become. 

He pulled back, “Good morning.”

She smiled, “A very good morning.”

Her fingers found his, winding together. She spoke softly, “Are you alright?”

He thought about it, tried to order his thoughts as they careened about in the morning light. He didn’t look at her when he spoke, afraid of what he might see. “I feel guilty for not being more sad. He was suffering and somehow it feels more like relief than grief.”

It had been so painful to watch Max diminish day by day, but he believed he was at peace now. He knew it had been difficult for everyone, he had watched the toll it had taken on Mara and Cullen, but unlike with Gregory they had each other. They would be fine this time around. But Barris kept willing himself to be more upset. It wouldn’t come, and that was scary. It felt as if something in him was broken, unable to feel, that was why he’d pulled Rosie away to feel something. All he had found was contentment. 

That couldn’t be normal, could it? 

Rosie seemed to sense his distress. She rested her hand lightly against his cheek turning him to look at her, “Whatever you’re feeling is okay.”

“Is it?” he asked gripping her hip, anchoring himself to her. 

“Yes, I feel  the same way. It’s not the same as when Gregory died,” she said. He knew she was trying to stop the comparisons his mind was flitting through. Gregory had ended his own life, with so much potential ahead of him. Max had been dying when he arrived, they’d just cushioned the fall. 

“It just feels wrong not to be more upset,” he admitted. 

Rosie nodded, “This won’t be the last Max we see. He’s the first, there will be more.”

“None of that worries me. Because I have you,” he said simply. Her amber eyes were soft and he rested his forehead against hers. 

“And I you,” she smiled. 

_ I love you _ , he thought. He’d been thinking those words for a while now, but hadn’t said them yet. Sometimes he thought he should just say them, give them over to her. She had to know his heart was hers by now, right? 

But he thought he might wait and in the spring take her to his childhood home, to see the family he hadn’t seen since right after Corypheus was defeated. He wanted to introduce her, to do some part of this courtship thing correctly. He wasn’t sure how to ask her yet, but each morning he woke up next to her made it easier and easier to imagine. 

***

The estate held many books, Barris had discovered a long time ago that Cullen wasn’t a collector of much, but books he held on to. Mara did too, which meant that the estate’s collection was slowly growing. Most of the books had found a home on the many shelves of Cullen’s office, but in time they seemed to be spilling out and had found their way to another set of shelves that had appeared in the infirmary. There was one book Barris had been especially concerned about showing up, but in all the books that ebbed and flowed on the bookshelves, he never did see that familiar green spine. 

He was working in Cullen’s office, though Cullen never called it that, it was just the office. It reminded him so much of Cullen’s tower at Skyhold. It might be smaller, and much less drafty but all of the furniture was set up the same way. Barris even recognized some of the same books on the bookshelves. It was easiest room to get work done, and ever since Cullen and Mara had gone to Denerim he’d been using it more and more. He didn’t want to admit it, but he’d been avoiding the infirmary. He kept reminding himself that Max was no longer there, but he kept avoiding it regardless. He could hear Cullen and Mara in there now, the soft rise and fall of their voices drifted into the hall and to the office.

Rosalie entered with a book in hand. After their morning together she’d gone back to Mia’s, and had returned sometime after Mara and Cullen had returned from town to visit with the Revered Mother and finalize the funeral arrangements. Rosie offered him a smile before stretching out on the couch and opening her book. Her presence was comforting, and he appreciated that they could spend time together not quite together, and that the silence never felt oppressive or unnatural. 

She’d been reading for the better part of an hour when she began looking up at him strangely and then returned to her book. After a few cycles of this he finally looked up, “What is it?”

Rosie smiled mischievously, “You never told me.”

“Told you what?” he moved around the large desk between them. Then he saw the familiar green spine of her book. Maker, no. His heart sank and he immediately felt his face growing hot. 

“You’re quite the hero Ser Barris,” Rosie giggled. 

He rushed forward. Perhaps she hadn’t read all of it, perhaps if he got it away from her now he could minimize the damage. “Where did you get that?”

Rosie was up in an instant, dodging him and keeping the book out of reach, “Cullen gave it to me.”

He was going to kill Cullen. Cullen knew how much he hated anyone knowing he was the same Ser Barris from the story. 

“Give it to me,” he said lunging for the book. 

Rosie laughed, “No.” She danced behind the desk, putting more room between them. 

He stumbled over the furniture, running his leg into the edge of the desk in his efforts to reach her. Swearing under his breath as the pain that bloomed from where he’d banged his leg, he stumbled forward, “Really, you don’t want to read it, it’s terribly written, hardly true.”

Rosie shook her head, “I don’t know, it did mention what a strapping, handsome warrior you are.”

He could feel a blush creeping over his cheeks, he knew exactly what the book said. This was not a conversation he’d ever wanted to have with her. In fact, he rather wished the whole affair hadn’t been immortalized in the form of a book. It was full of short stories, some perhaps less true than even his. 

“You singlehandedly won the Battle of Dragon’s Peak!” she teased. 

He shook his head, “I did not. There were a few blood mages holding some Tal-Vashoth mercenaries. We took care of them and the Pride Demon they summoned. It was just bad luck the Dalish Clan was nearby enough to be involved too.”

“And yet ‘Ser Barris brought the chaotic brawl to a peaceful resolution’,” Rosie quipped. 

“It’s all highly exaggerated,” he made a move to grab her, but she moved out of his grasp.

She narrowed her eyes a bit, “Why didn’t you want to tell me?”

He shrugged, “Nothing worth telling. I was just doing my job.”

“Oh Delrin, you should give yourself more credit,” her amber eyes were soft as she looked at him.

He caught her around the waist, mostly because she wanted him to. But she made an effort to escape, body still shaking with laughter as she arched back over the desk to keep the book out of reach. He held her too him with one arm while the other reached for the book. She hooked a leg around his, bringing her body into a more perfect alignment. 

It worked a little, but two could play that game. He captured her lips with his own, kissing her in a way that he knew would have her toes curling. Once she began melting against him he rolled his hips, just once, and the accompanying gasp told him what he was doing was working. He plucked the book from her grasp as he kissed her, holding it above his head and far out of her reach. 

She broke away, “That’s cheating.”

“Is not,” he threw the book towards the window and kissed her again, more tenderly this time. He situated her more comfortably so that she sat atop the desk, and he was too absorbed in her to realize how unprofessional it would look if anyone walked by. 

Someone cleared their throat awkwardly and he jumped away from Rosie like a lovesick teenager who had just been caught doing something wrong. Rosie for her part looked unfazed, but her lips were red and kiss swollen as she jumped down from her perch. Cullen stood in the doorway, his face an astounding shade of red. 

“I….um...just need to get a few papers,” he said - looking everywhere but at them. 

He and Rosie waited in silence as Cullen picked up a few papers from the exact spot he’d been rutting into his sister.  

“Thanks for the book!” Rosie said with a giggle to Cullen’s retreating back. 

Then they both dissolved into laughter and Cullen’s ears were red as he rushed out. 

Barris decided that he and Cullen were even.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some fluff after the angst of the last chapter! I hope you enjoyed it, I so love writing these two! Thanks for reading!


	3. Unexpected Gifts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen and Mara deal with the aftermath of Max's passing, but an unexpected package arrives.

It had been a few days since the last snowfall.  _ A small mercy _ , Mara thought glumly. It had been three days since they’d lit Max’s funeral pyre in the bitter cold. She’d debated for a while about carving a staff for him, but in the end decided to anyway. She hadn’t known him well enough to know if he would have minded that small act from her, but it felt wrong not to. 

Cullen had been withdrawn since Max’s passing, keeping himself busy until late into the night. And when he finally did come to bed he was so exhausted that he dropped into sleep before they could have a real conversation. He was blaming himself, and she wasn’t sure how to pull him out of the downward guilt spiral he was in. 

Mia was trying too. She kept making excuses to come by the estate, and it was helping. It was just not quite enough. It had been Barris and Rosie that had done the most good, Mara thought. Before the funeral Cullen had come into the infirmary bright red and clearly embarrassed, and he’d been so much like himself as he’d told her what had happened in his office. And then that spark had sputtered out just as quickly as it had come. 

The light from the window shifted gray and the room was lightening. She knew the sun was rising, even if it was almost impossible to see it through the gray clouds that pressed down on South Reach. Winter wasn’t even half over yet, and she was already dreaming in vibrant greens and warm breezes. 

Mara laid awake, looking over the expanse of the bed between them. Cullen was still sleeping, his even breathing the only sound in her dark bedroom. His sleep had been fitful of late, and most mornings he was long awake before she got up. She’d find him in his office bent over something that needed his attention.

She didn’t dare move, just in case her shifting woke him. He was such a light sleeper, and perhaps it was wishful thinking, but maybe a good night’s rest would help. So she watched the rise and fall of his chest, and tried to think of some way to lift the crippling weight of Max’s death off of them both. 

She was so lost in thought that she hardly noticed when he woke, gently for once, and turned towards her. 

“Everything alright?” he asked softly. 

She blinked, as if to clear her vision as she looked at him. He still looked tired, like another several hours of sleep would do him good. She reached out for him, taking his hand in hers. “I don’t know,” she said. 

Cullen watched her for a moment, “Tell me.”

“It just feels as if there’s a cloud over us that I can’t get rid of, and I feel as though I haven’t really seen you in days,” she replied, staring at their joined hands. It was easier than meeting his eyes, she’d tried to give him time, give them both time, but the lack of communication was near suffocating. 

“I’m right here,” he whispered. 

She met his eyes then, an unmistakable sadness lurked in those amber depths, “Not really. You’ve been burying yourself in work, and I’ve been letting you.”

He swallowed, “It….I…” His words stumbled as he grasped for them. It was the most direct she’d been in days. She’d done small amounts of reaching, bringing him food, waiting up for him. At her words a new sort of guilt had built up in his eyes. 

She propped herself up on her elbow and shifted closer to him, laying a hand against his cheek, “I don’t say it as an accusation, but we can’t continue like this.”

“I was giving us both space to work through this,” he said simply. 

“I don’t want anymore space,” she said. She’d had nothing but space since Max’s death, somehow it managed to feel more stifling than everyone’s concern. 

He wrapped his arm around her, “Neither do I.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t do more for him.” There they were, the words she’d been grappling with since his arrival. She’d wanted so badly to save him, so badly to make it better, to fix it all. But it was far too late, she knew that, and yet she questioned. Did she try enough different treatments? Was there another way? If she was a better healer perhaps it would have all been different. 

She wondered if Cullen could see the questions as they flashed through her mind because he pulled her closer, “You have nothing to be sorry for. You did all you could.”

The corners of her eyes burned, but she gritted her teeth and willed them to go away. She’d had enough of crying, “So did you.”

“It didn’t feel like much...in the end,” Cullen said. They were both quiet until he spoke again several moments later, “Mia keeps saying that if this place didn’t exist he would have had nowhere to go. That he might have died begging for lyrium in the streets. I’ve been thinking about that a lot.”

“And if it was really better?” she asked, thinking she knew the answer. 

“It would have been so much easier if he’d just been gone all the time, but there were those bouts where he was himself, and he seemed profoundly aware of what was happening to him. And perhaps it makes me selfish, but I wondered if I wasn’t looking at my future,” his words might have well been yelled for how they sliced through her. 

And maybe love had made her a fool, but she couldn’t imagine that would be his fate. That she would ever allow that to be his fate. “No,” she said firmly. The lyrium had been poisoning Max’s body for nearly double the time it had Cullen’s. And Cullen was there before her, whole and healthy so damn stubborn. 

“No,” she said again, “That is not your future.”

He closed his eyes, “It was so hard to watch.”

“He was warm, comfortable, surrounded by people that cared for him. Isn’t that the most anyone could ever ask for?” she wondered aloud. She’d seen so much death, had held the hands of the dying just so that there was someone there. That they were not alone as the light left their eyes, as those last threads of life within them went still. 

Cullen called her back to him with a brush of his thumb against her cold knuckles, “At least we gave him that.”

He had died there at the estate, where they knew his name and his story. He did not become some statistic on the streets of a city, nameless and without anyone to care. There was always more they wished they could do, for everyone that passed through the estate, and perhaps they always would. But at least they were doing good. 

“Can we be alright if that is all we are able to give?” she asked. “If we encounter more who can’t be saved?”

“Yes.” He was so sure and so stalwart, he pulled her close and buried his head in her hair. She wondered then if there was nothing he didn’t believe they could face.  

“Okay,” she said against his skin, “I’m just going to try to remember that there are more good times than bad.”

Cullen kissed her hair, “Always. We will get through this.”

“Like everything else,” Mara agreed.

Cullen pulled back to look at her, “And we will get through a great many more. I don’t care what we face, as long as I get to be by your side.” Then he kissed her, and she let him make love to her as the sun steadily rose above the mountains outside her window. 

***

It had been a relief to touch her again, Cullen realized. Like a piece of him had come back, and he went to work that morning feeling more hopeful than he had since arriving back from Denerim. He had been somewhere in the middle of his third letter that day when there was a knock at the estate’s front door. 

He strode out of his office to answer it, to find himself face to face with a young man holding a large package. It had been bitterly cold the last few days, so cold that the snow refused to fall. Instead it built up in heaps of gray, piled along the road outside in icy sheets that didn’t even melt in the day. 

“Looking for a Cullen Rutherford,” the young man said. 

“That’s me.” 

The young man smiled and winked, “Compliments of Red Jenny.” And then he passed Cullen the large package. It was far heavier than he’d expected, then the boy tipped his hat and took off down the road. 

Cullen closed the door behind him against the bitter chill that was seeping into the otherwise warm house. Mara had come into the foyer, “Who was that?”

“Someone sent by Sera I think,” Cullen said, holding up the package. 

“What on earth did she send you?” Mara asked, eyeing the package suspiciously. 

“I’m a little afraid to open it up, to be honest,” Cullen replied. 

Mara smiled, and Cullen realized just how dearly he’d missed her smile, “Bring it into the infirmary. That way when it makes a mess it’ll be easier to clean.”

“When?” he asked, teasingly. 

Mara nodded, “It’s Sera, so it’s always a matter of when, not if.”

He followed her into the room and set the box on the floor, and then stared at it as if he could discern what was inside if he stared at it long enough, “Perhaps you should open it.”   
Mara glared at him, “It’s for you.”

Curiosity was getting the better of him so he knelt down, “Alright then.”

He pulled at the lid, gently, and when it came away and the light from the infirmary poured in, he saw what Sera had sent. 

“What is it?” Mara asked, stepping closer. 

Nestled in a light blue blanket was a small mabari puppy and a somewhat chewed on letter sat next to him. The puppy was asleep, and so Cullen pulled out the letter first. 

 

_ Cully-Wully,  _

_ Me and Widdle have been doing some clean-up around Denerim. Found a mabari and a litter of seven pups. No one would buy the runt, but I thought you wouldn’t mind. Especially since you’ve got that whole big estate. Hi to Mara too, don’t let him name it something stupid.  _

_ -Sera _

 

Cullen passed the letter to Mara and then stared down at the sleeping puppy. He’d wanted a mabari when he was a boy, terribly. But they were so expensive and though he’d asked, his parents had always said no. He couldn’t help but smile as he reached into the box and gave the pup a quick stroke on its head. 

The puppy roused, blinking up towards the light and whimpering. He turned the box in its side, to let the puppy come out on its own. 

“She sent you a mabari,” Mara laughed as she crouched down next to him. 

The puppy moved cautiously, towards them. It was a deep brown color, but spots of white littered its thick coat and its large paws were pure white. Cullen extended his hand towards it, letting the puppy sniff at it and move towards him before he pet it properly. 

The puppy, however, seemed to have decided that Cullen wasn’t a threat and bounded towards him shakily. 

“Well, hello there,” he said as he rubbed its ears. 

Mara glanced into the box, “Is the poor thing freezing?”

“No,” Cullen said as he ran his hands along the coat, “Quite warm actually.”

Mara reached inside the box, pulling out a small warming rune, no doubt Dagna’s handiwork. 

“Well, at least you don’t have to worry about him having caught a cold,” Mara said, examining the rune. 

“He seems quite content,” Cullen commented as the puppy attempted to nip at his hand, jumping around as it followed his fingers. 

“He needs a name,” Mara said. 

She pet the puppy and it jumped into her lap before settling down, clearly looking for more rubs. Cullen found himself laughing, “Yes, he certainly does.”

Mara looked to him expectantly as she rubbed the puppy’s stomach, “Well?”

“Argos,” Cullen said finally. 

Mara looked at him confused, “Argos? What’s that from?.”

“There was a story I’d read when I was younger, about a man who went to war and came back home years and years later, and even though he was disguised and no one recognized him, Argos did,” Cullen said explained, “When I was younger all I wanted was a mabari and to name him Argos.”

She picked up the puppy and held him up to her face, “What do you think of that? He wants to call you Argos.”

The puppy barked excitedly, ears flopping forward. Cullen scooted closer, “I think he likes it.”

The mabari barked again, almost in affirmation. Then Mara shrugged, “Well, alright. Argos it is then.”

Barris walked into the infirmary with Rosalie, Audra, Trina, Davis, and Lyre trailing behind. “What on earth do you have there?” Barris asked, crossing his arms. 

Mara smiled up to him, “His name is Argos.”

And Cullen smiled too, and whether Sera knew it or not she’d brought a bit of brightness back to the estate. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a bit of angst, but it's very fluffy. Also ten points if you know the literary reference for the dog's name. Argos's fate always made me sad, so I gave us a happy Argos.


	4. Trees With Names

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mara and Cullen seek some closure as spring approaches.

Winter was in its final clutches, frost still spirited in overnight, but the days held the promise of spring. Only a few patches of snow remained in the valley, in shadows that rarely saw the light, the mountains mostly dead and brown until fading upwards back into white. The sun shined weakly most days, but it wouldn’t last long. Cullen wondered if they’d miss the true warming while they were away in Ostwick. 

They were set to depart in less than a month, and Cullen was looking forward to the break. The winter had been a trying time. Max’s death still hung over the estate like a dark gloom, and by extension Gregory’s too. Because whenever death came to the estate, Cullen knew that Gregory would never be far from his mind. 

The harsh winter had made it nearly impossible for anyone to travel to South Reach, and Cullen still wasn’t sure how Sera had managed to get Argos from Denerim into the mountain valley. Argos had grown rapidly, almost too rapidly, and didn’t ever seem to know his size. Cullen was constantly having to help the poor beast out of places Argos had gotten himself stuck in. Most recently it was from under a chair that he’d barely fit in when he first arrived, and definitely did not fit under now. 

Cullen had tracked down a plush chair, it was bright green, the fabric a bit scratchy, but he laid a soft blanket on it and then set it near the window in his office. More often than not, Argos was curled up in the patch of sunlight that filtered in. 

Cullen looked up from the supply list that was in his hands, the estate was quiet today. Barris and Rosie had taken the Templars into town, taking advantage of the warm weather. He knew Mara was still there, working in the infirmary or out in the herb garden that flourished as if it was the height of summer and not beginning of spring. Everything around him was calm, and he realized that there had been more of that lately at the estate than not. He was grateful for it, that it had become the sanctuary he had always envisioned it being. It had just somehow become that haven without him realizing it. 

“Everything alright?” Mara asked from the doorway, pulling him from his thoughts. 

He glanced to her. Her hair was longer now, and she was wearing a soft wool sweater Mia had knitted her. Her eyes were a soft, as they were quite often these days. Winter had been hard for them both, and they had held each other carefully in the last couple of months. 

“I got distracted going over the supply list,” he confessed. 

Mara smiled. “It’s a pretty day. I’ve been distracted looking out my window most of the day.”

“It is.”

“It’s awfully quiet, it’s not often we’re here alone,” she said. It was true, though Cullen hoped that wouldn’t be the case once the cottage was done. But Mara didn’t know about that yet, didn’t know that the few times a week he was supposedly helping Branson at Mia’s farm he was really out at the cottage with Branson and Matthew. He was bursting to tell her, but kept himself from doing so. He had a plan.

He grinned, “No, it’s not.”

She had looked away, was toying with the hem of her sweater and shifting from foot to foot. “I’ve...uh...got a surprise for you.”

“You do?” he asked, without any idea what it might be. The hopefulness in his voice must have given her courage because she met his gaze and nodded. 

“It’s outside.”

He stood from his desk, meeting her in the doorway and pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Lead the way.”

Argos was still dozing in the chair, and Cullen glanced back to see if he would follow. Argos stretched a bit, settling into his chair, clearly uninterested. 

Mara took his hand and led him into the infirmary and out the back doors into the garden. It was a breezy day, and the herbs swayed to the tune of it. The air smelled of embrium and elfroot, and the sun shone brightly. Cullen had forgotten what it felt like to walk out of a door and not be hit with icy air. 

They walked past the sparring area, to where the land turned wild. Cullen had panicked momentarily that she might lead him towards the cottage, but she walked right past the thicket of trees and the nearly obscured path that led to it. Out beyond the estate the hills rolled, and Mara led him up the nearest one, where two saplings sat next to two shovels. The saplings were only a few feet in height, looked as though a good burst of wind might bowl them over. 

“What’s this?” he asked, looking to Mara. 

She looked at him thoughtfully, as if contemplating whether to tell him or not. He gave her hand what he hoped was a reassuring squeeze and she looked away from him, out towards the horizon. She was nervous to share whatever this was with him, and he worried over that, about what that said about him. 

When she finally spoke, her voice was tentative, “In my clan when people died, we planted a tree for them. And I think that maybe if we plant these two, for Max and Gregory, it might let us let go of them a little.”

She glanced back at him, clearly assessing his reaction. “That’s beautiful.” 

He saw the relief in her eyes, in her responding smile. And then she picked up the shovels, handing him one as well. They worked in silence for a time, the only sound around them was the bite of the shovels into the soft soil. 

“What kind?” he asked, gesturing towards the small saplings. 

“Ash,” Mara reverently whispered. 

Cullen paused, “For sacrifice?” 

Mara nodded, “And sensitivity.” She glanced up at him, blonde hair blowing into her face. She tucked the strands back behind her pointed ear, lips pressed together. “It seemed fitting.”

“It is,” he agreed, a lump building in his throat. 

Together they placed the first sapling in the hole, gently filling in the soil once more. Once both saplings were planted Mara knelt, patting the soil around the small trunk. 

Cullen knelt down as well, facing her, “What now?”

Mara’s green eyes were filled with damp hope, “A prayer.”

He placed his hands down around the tree as well, his fingertips brushing hers. She swallowed and stared into his eyes, “And a bit of magic.”

Cullen understood it for the gentle warning that it was, she was always so careful with him, even before she understood completely why he needed her to be. But Kinloch had never felt more distant under the weak spring sunshine. He moved his hands, but instead of pulling away he placed them over hers, both a question and a promise. 

He watched as the weight of the gesture settled between them, the trust they built unwavering beneath it. Mara’s eyes were full of awe, and they stayed like that for a moment until her eyes fell shut. 

He didn’t understand most of the Elven words. It didn’t matter; the soft lilt of the words on her tongue was all grace and elegance. He was surprised to feel his heart swell in the same way it did when he recited bits of the Chant of Light, when he fell to his knees before his Maker.

He tried to think of Max and of Gregory, but they felt so far away. Instead he thought about how both of them would appreciate this small hill, the beautiful trees that would grow atop it. More would follow, Cullen had accepted that, but perhaps it might be easier to bare with this place existing.

“Dareth shiral,” Mara said. Cullen recognized the farewell, and felt the pull of the Fade around them. He waited for the surge of panic, for fear to replace the peace. He was prepared to combat it, but it never came. In its place, he found peace; it was a tender mercy. 

He followed Mara as she knelt by the other sapling, and they repeated the ritual, his hands on hers all the while. He saw the flash of her magic and felt it more acutely the second time, but still he didn’t pull his hands away. He kept her slender fingers encased in his, and tried not to berate himself for how long it took to reach this point. Tried not to count the years between that hilltop and Kirkwall, worked to accept the changes so far. 

“Talk to me.” 

He hadn’t realized his eyes had fallen shut, as he met her emerald gaze. “I’m sorry.” 

He watched the confusion spool in her eyes. “For what?”

“That this took so long.” He tightened his hold on her hands. “And that you were nervous to show me this.”

Mara pulled her hands back and he nearly protested until he realized she was moving closer to him. Cullen pulled her into his lap, and she brushed the dirt on her hands off on her breeches before cupping his face. 

“Progress is progress, there is no need for apologies.” She pressed a kiss to his lips. 

“As for my nervousness, that’s not your fault. You have always been wonderful when I’ve shared pieces of my culture with you, but I still worry sometimes that it’s in opposition to what you believe,” she said, fingers falling to his tunic and toying with the neckline. 

He rested his forehead against hers. “Much of what you believe is different, but no less valid to me simply because it is so. I love you, all of you.”

She smiled then. “I love you, too.”

They spent the better part of an hour on the hilltop, listening to the breeze blow through the leaves of the saplings, their arms wrapped around each other. Their legs were both stiff as they stood, laughter following as they both wobbled a bit. He grasped her fingers, and they walked hand in hand back to the estate. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had this one in my head for a long time, and finally sat down to write it. It was a much quieter piece than I'd originally envisioned, but it's one of my favorite things I've written recently. I hope you enjoyed reading it!


End file.
